Five years after the Fall of Weald Hall…

Jeria ran his fingers through the loose earth. The sand was dry, fine particles and bits of leaves and mulch could be felt, only slight amount of residual moisture still evident within. He looked back at the group lined up behind him, the trader looking nervous despite his guards, and the squad that the leaders from Harmony Lake had sent with him. Jeria stood, loosening his axe that hung down his back.

"We have visitors from the surface somewhere ahead. They look to have a two- or three-days lead on us." Jeria looked directly at the merchant who sat fidgeting, panic on his face. "I advise you to still your fear, Radogoff. We will move ahead slowly, carefully. Hopefully, we will avoid whoever has preceded us within this passage." He waved the group forward, waiting till the sergeant in charge of the squad drew level and he could talk to him quietly. "Keep the men alert, whoever made these tracks tried to hide them. Their craft is lacking, they travel without an Outwalker or anything similar. The whole setup seems wrong. There is something making him fear, though what I don’t know. Just be alert and don’t let on to Radogoff or his entourage, we don’t need them panicking. "

The sergeant clapped him on his back, nodded, and moved forward to his team. The soldiers all seem to sit tighter and surreptitiously checked their weapons, making sure they were loose in their sheaths and easily drawn. The trader’s bodyguards, not told directly, were professional enough to notice the increased tension and they, too, noticeably upped their level of alertness.

It took another three hours before Jeria called another halt, unhappy with the path and the markings he was picking up as they travelled. Simple hand movements communicated enough that the soldiers contracted, forming a tight defensive perimeter, the bodyguards forming a solid wall of flesh between their client and any hostile creatures nearby. Silence fell across the group, the heavy breathing and a sudden snort from the cave beasts pulling the carts the only sounds.

Jeria pulled his axe loose, hefting it in his hand, feeling its strength, its cold solidity a comfort. The tunnel ahead was dark, their lanterns and torches lighting it only slightly. The deep darkness swallowed the light and the dull rock walls, devoid of any moisture or vegetation, seemed to emit shadows into the passages, drinking the light that fell upon them. He crept forward, his footfalls measured, their placement exact. Jeria moved beyond the radius of the light and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness, let his fiendish ancestry resolve the darkness. Ahead, the passage narrowed and a deeper darkness fell; darkness so deep even his magically enhanced vision was unable to penetrate. As carefully as he had moved forward, he moved back, knowing the danger that lay ahead, knowing that darkness could not be natural.

He moved back to the group, all the time keeping his eyes on the darkness, fearing what might appear from within.

"Start moving back, there's an ambush ahead." Jeria took a deep breath and looked at the whole group. "Whoever the group is that awaits us, at least one is either a mage or a fiend."

Silently they retreated, struggling to get the carts to move, the beasts to remain silent while being manhandled. The face of the trader was white, even whiter than it normally was considering he had never seen the sun to darken it. Jeria, with his squad at six walked backwards, watching that dark passageway, watching out for any pursuit, began to feel they had avoided the trap when a laugh broke out. From within the darkness, the voice carried no mirth, the very sound of it chilling to the humans that heard it.

"Going somewhere? I have been waiting for you and you go off and try to avoid me. If I had any feelings, they would be hurt. Just as well I don't have any!" As it spoke, the voice came nearer, the owner of it eventually entering the light. One look at it and Jeria knew they were in trouble. The owner of the voice was a fiend, as he had suspected from the darkness and the speech, but it was one of the major fiends, high up in the hierarchy and far more powerful than he, even with the combined might of the squad and the trader's bodyguards to support him. The fiend was not that large, no more than the height of an average man, with skin the colour of burnished copper and compound eyes that reflected the light in every direction. Sharp, serrated fangs lined its mouth; its chest and four arms were corded with massive muscles. Jeria had heard of this kind of fiend, knew that they were strong, capable with the twin scimitars that were sheathed and hanging from its waist, but he also knew that its sword were not its primary threat, rather they were renowned for their arcane might.

"Ahh, what a group you all make; led by one that is a distant cousin, the rest wielding weapons that would harm my weaker brethren. Question is, what are we going to do now? We could all try to kill each other, or maybe we should have a nice conversation." The fiend smiled, no more good will within its smile than within its laughter, yet Jeria felt relieved that it had not simply blasted them.

"We simply wish to pass. We do not seek confrontation; we do not seek to fight or cause upset." Jeria watched the fiend, wondering when it would tire of this game, when it would strike out, probably in a way against which they would be defenceless.

"Why, Jeria, how impolite, trying to leave so quickly when all I want is to talk."

Jeria stood there, shocked. How does it know me, is it Hiron? Is my father still after me? The silence extended, the group behind him slowly moving off. The fiend seemed not to care about them, their movements and whether they left or remained. The two stood in silence and, finally, stood there alone. Jeria, seeing with a quick glance backwards that the group was out of sight, out of danger looked at the fiend and spoke, finally breaking the silence.

"Who are you? How do you know of me and what do you want from me?"

"I am the Emissary. I represent a group that could be very useful to you and your city. We heard of you from our spies within Hiron's camp. He seeks you. He is still furious at his loss of you five years ago. The one that you commandeered with command tongue is still a central feature, his continued suffering entertainment for all."

The fiend smiled at him, “Are you not happy with the results of your escape? One friend in continual agony for who knows how long.” He chuckled as he continued, “Evidently Hiron has plans that involve you. Strange isn’t it, how he did not care when he did not know you existed, but how furious he is when he loses you now. On the other hand, our thinking is very simple, if he seeks you for his own reasons, you could be very useful to us, and in return, us to you. I do so hope we are right, it has taken us a long time to track you down!" The emissary stopped talking, waiting for a reaction, waiting to see what would Jeria would do next.

"An Emissary? From whom and how do I know you can be trusted? How do I know that this is not just a trick to capture, get me off guard, a ploy by my ‘Father’ to get me under his control?"

The fiend laughed, and then, before Jeria could react, pointed at him sending out a green beam that soaked into him, froze his blood, pinned him to the ground. The fiend came up to him, breathing into his paralysed face, filling his nose with the stink of decay and fetid, rotted meat. Another laugh, a quick clap of its hand, and the fiend turned away as, released from the paralysis Jeria crumpled to the ground.

"If I wanted you dead or captured, Jeria, you would be dead or in chains already. No, I am here to invite you to a meeting, nothing more. Are you going to come? I cleared the path ahead so you can be sure that your companions behind you can go about their journey in peace."

Jeria lay gasping for air, the period of paralysis a period of breathlessness and fear a horrifying memory. Gradually he sat up, looked at the Emissary and sighed, "I may as well do as you request; it seems like you're just being polite in asking me. So, I thank you for your courtesy." Slowly he came to his feet and placed his axe back into the loops on his back. The Emissary just smiled, took his elbow and, with a couple of words, the world around them changed, a curtain of blackness fading into a room, with red flames providing a dim flickering light. As he looked around, the flames died down and torches flooded the room with bright light.